


The Girl in the Cake

by Finnreyisforlovers



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-07-16 22:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19941022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finnreyisforlovers/pseuds/Finnreyisforlovers
Summary: Finn just wanted a quiet 21st birthday. His roommates had other plans, and fate had still other plans.





	1. Happy Birthday, Finn

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this will be a story with short chapters. Please feel free to leave feedback, this is my first Finnrey story! Thank you!

There was a girl in the cake.

Finn March knew it as Nines and Slip rolled the elaborately tiered thing into the living room, grinning at each other and talking about how the filling probably had “extra body.” Zeroes stood at one side, silent, his eyes trained on the thing and his tongue licking out to wet his lips at regular intervals.

Finn was silent and fuming as the two men pushed the cake right into the middle of the floor, stood up and leered proudly at him, both sneaking sidelong glances at the white-and-pink monstrosity that now dominated the room.

“We told you we weren’t gonna let you out of celebrating your 21st birthday right.” Slip’s voice was kindly and had the pleasant slur of incipient drunkenness. “You wouldn’t let us take you out to a club, soooo we brought some of the club to you.”

Nines and Zeroes laughed at that, and Finn was reminded of the hyenas from _The Lion King_.

“I told you I didn’t want a big thing. It’s not a big deal. It’s a date on a calendar.” Finn grit his teeth. “I have, like, three exams to study for, and I just wanted to relax tonight.”

Slip’s face fell. Zeroes stirred restlessly, but next to him, Nines scowled.

“You’re an ungrateful little dick, March. We put a lot of thought into this _and_ a lot of money.”

“Yeah, well, that’s on you." Finn's voice was glacial. "Nobody asked you to do either of those things.”

For the millionth time, Finn chastised himself for letting Slip talk him into sharing a quad with Zeroes and Nines. Zeroes was all right sometimes, just mainly silent and stupid, but Nines was a fucking douche dialed up high _every minute_.

“In fact, I _told_ all of you that I just wanted to chill on my birthday, so you can shove the attitude up your fucking ass, Nines.”

“Hey – _hey_!” Slip interposed himself between Nines, who had begun to approach, and Finn, who was stepping up to meet him. “Let’s not do this here, all right? Nines, chill. Finn … I mean, we just wanted to do something fun for your birthday. There’s no ulterior motive. I know you said you wanted to keep it lowkey, but it’s your 21st. It _is_ a big deal, man. Even if _you_ don’t think so.”

Finn started to speak, and then stopped. Slip didn’t get it. Slip never got it. He was the happy-go-lucky boy, always had been, even when they’d both been in the hell that was Hux’s Military Academy for Foundling Boys. Finn had survived by his wits and his intellect, keeping his eyes on the prize and doing all he could to ensure that once he turned 18, he would never have to darken HMA’s doorstep ever again. Slip had survived by wishing, hoping and looking on the bright side of everything and everyone. He was the consummate “good guy.” Finn thought it was a shame that Slip found languages to be “boring” because he thought he’d make a pretty decent diplomat.

“How about this: The cake’s here. It’s paid for. Let’s just … sing happy birthday, and that’s it,” said Slip. “You can do whatever you want to do for the rest of the night. Deal?”

Finn sighed. Shrugged.

“Whatever. Let’s just get it over with.”

“Fuck that!" Nines nearly shouted. "I’m not singing to this dickhead. Let him sit in his room with his thumb up his ass if he wants. I have actual _friends_ I can hang with.”

Nines turned abruptly toward the door, but was stopped by Slip, who grabbed his arm.

“This cake shit was your idea,” said Slip with the cold anger that he could muster on occasion and that made even Finn raise an eyebrow. “Stop acting bitchmade and _sing the fucking song_.”

Nines’ nostrils flared briefly, but after shaking Slip’s hand off, he stalked back to the center of the room, eyeing Finn defiantly.

“All right, let’s just do this. Ready?”

Slip, Zeroes and a scowling Nines began a shaky and very off-key rendition of _Happy Birthday_ , and Finn was half hoping that someone would call campus police for a noise complaint. Maybe then he could transfer out of the quad without feeling too guilty about leaving Slip behind.

Finn eyed them, grim-faced, as they sang. Apparently the big “surprise” was supposed to come at the end of the song, as he noticed that the three were glancing over at the cake expectantly as they got through the tune, their eyes lingering there more or less permanently after “Happy Birthday dear Fiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.”

At the rousing “Happy Birthday toooooo youuuuuuuuuuu!” conclusion, Zeroes and Slip turned bodily toward the cake, silly grins stretching their faces. Nines gave Finn a tired smirk before he too turned toward the cake and folded his arms much like a potentate waiting to be entertained.

Finn, bracing himself for the “big finale,” found himself unable to take his eyes off the cake. As the last notes died away and his roommates faced away from him, their attention on the oversized, slightly obscene-looking pastry in their living room, Finn held his breath and waited.

But nothing happened.

Finn was starting to wonder if this was some sort of joke-within-a-joke. Maybe they got that huge-ass cake and made all the comments and so on to make him _think_ there was a girl inside – but he saw the looks of genuine confusion on his roommates’ faces as they glanced uneasily at the cake and then at each other.

“What the fuck …? Wasn’t … _you know_ … supposed to happen after we sang?”

“Yeah, I thought so. Or … wait? Does Finn have to blow out the candles first?”

“Candles? You been huffing paint again, man? Do you see any fucking candles on there?”

“No … but maybe there were supposed to be candles? Like the trick candles that don’t go out when you blow on them?”

“What the hell good would _those_ be?”

“There weren’t supposed to be any candles. No one said anything about any fucking candles when I placed the order.” That from Slip, sounding harried. “Look, the cake is pretty thick, maybe? Maybe uh, we weren’t loud enough?”

Finn winced. They had sung loud enough the first time to wake the fucking dead.

“Let’s just try it again. Let’s face the cake the whole time, though.”

They started again, sounding a little better this time, as if they wondered whether a better performance might give them the result they were looking for. Finn kept his eyes on the cake. It was like a prop for a stage wedding, stiff and unreal in its oversized gaudiness. Maybe such things were constructed in factories, decorated on an assembly line by someone who was probably paid shit and had dreams of someday having a job where they could take a whole half-hour for lunch.

The last notes died away. Finn studied the faces of his companions. They were looking at the cake with expressions ranging from defiance to unease. Finn had heard of these “cake parties” before. They’d become something of a fad on campus, especially at the frats. A scantily clad – because complete nudity was against the college charter – girl would pop out of the cake, lean over to croon to the birthday boy, giving him a nice view of her tits, and then everyone would whistle and applaud and retire to their rooms to get drunk or jack off, whatever their pleasure was.

But here, nothing was happening. And Finn could tell by their faces that something was _supposed_ to happen. This was _supposed_ to be like any other cake party.

Except, it wasn’t.

Slip and Nines turned slowly toward each other. Slip looked pale and shaken, but Nines looked absolutely furious.

“We got played! There’s no bitch in there!” Nines’ voice seethed anger. “Three hundred fucking dollars for some fake-ass cake we had to drag in here ourselves. Call the company! If they think they’re getting away with it –”

“Why don’t _you_ call them?” Finn raised a brow. “Since this was _your_ idea anyway, why don’t _you_ do the heavy lifting figuring out what happened?”

Nines started to speak, but Slip preempted him, his voice hollow.

“I used my credit card. If they cheated us, _I_ gotta make the call.”

“Well then _do_ it, asshole,” said Nines, “While the fucking thing is still here. I want them to come back out here _now_ so they don’t think we’re –”

“— Hey.” Zeroes, who had stood largely silent, save for the singing, was now at one side of the cake, leaning toward it at an almost comic angle. His usually-blank face was now in a slack-jawed pose of astonishment. “There _is_ someone in here. I can hear them. Snoring.”

Nines stopped short. "Snoring? Are you _serious_?"

Finn also looked askance. How could anybody sleep through a performance like that?

"No, for real. Come over and listen."

Nines and Slip took up positions on the opposite side of the cake and leaned in. There was almost funereal silence for several minutes.

Then Finn heard it. A sound like air being let very slowly out of a bike tire. Then a weird snuffling sound, and the air being let out again.

He stared at his roommates in utter disbelief. Son of a gun, Zeroes was right - there _was_ someone in the cake. The person who'd been paid to entertain them was catching 40 winks instead?

Slip, ashen-faced, broke the silence. "Holy fuck ... what do you think we should do? Knock on the cake or ...?"

The sentence had barely left his mouth when the snoring stopped abruptly, the cake shuddered on its platform, and a sleepy but somehow still-sharp "OH FUCK! Uhm, I'll be with you in a minute!" could be clearly heard from the recesses of the multilayered dessert.

Finn felt his lips twitch. Okay, so _now_ his birthday was starting to get a little interesting.


	2. Saving the Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Thursday update! This is a slightly longer chapter. I really appreciate all the feedback and kudos from the first chapter, and everyone who is continuing to read.

Finn leaned against the couch, taking in the scene. The cake was shuttling worryingly back and forth on its little platform. The movement wasn’t quite enough to make the thing tip over, but nevertheless, Slip, Zeroes and Nines ranged around the cake in a loose ring, their hands held out as if preparing to catch it if it toppled.

“Sorry, I’m having some trouble finding … oh, wait, I think this is it … oh ... no ... that’s _not_ it ... uhm ...”

The muffled voice had lost its sleepy quality and now sounded vaguely panicked. Finn thought he detected an accent now that she’d spoken more than just a few words.

“Just a ... fuck! It's not moving. Why is this not moving? What the hell is going on?!”

There was a flurry of activity from within the cake that did seem to render it in danger of falling, but it calmed down after a few seconds.

“I can’t get out.” The voice was definitely unnerved. “There’s supposed to be a weak point that lets me break through, but it’s like cement! It’s dark as hell in here ... and hot.”

Slip, Nines, and Zeroes looked at the cake, backing away as if it had gone radioactive. Finn pushed himself off the couch, grimacing. Once, when he’d transgressed against one of the many unspoken rules at HMA, he’d been locked in a small utility closet for hours with no dinner. He still remembered the feeling of the walls closing in on him, the darkness, the fetid smell of mold, the feeling that he could barely breathe ...

“Hey—in there,” he called, feeling somewhat foolish to be addressing a large, false cake. “Can you hear me?”

“Y...yeah. Yeah, I hear you, whoever you are.”

“Just stay chill, okay? We're gonna get you out of there. Is there a hole or something for you to breathe through? There has to be something like that, right?”

There was a pause. “Yeah, at the top. I can see it.”

“Can you widen that hole any? Maybe that’s the weak point?”

There was a little more movement and a sound like small pebbles hitting the ground.

“Ouch! The top is supposed to be soft, but it’s like cement. I can’t break through it.”

"Dammit. Okay, let me see something."

Approaching the cake, Finn spotted the edge of the platform upon which it sat and carefully stepped up, balancing on the balls of his feet. He studied the thing analytically, knocking the structure in some places, tapped on it in others. After a moment, he reached up as far as he could. He was able to feel the uppermost layer, frowning when he felt how solid the top was. His fingers traced a circular cutout in the material about the diameter of a small orange that he supposed was the air hole. There were no other openings.

Finn looked at Slip. “You still have that old band cutter?”

Slip gave him a strange look. “Huh? Yeah, it’s in closet. Why’re you asking about _that_ when this chick’s stuck in the cake?”

Finn just managed not to roll his eyes. “We’re going to have to cut her out. The whole thing is a wooden frame with some kind of Styrofoam over it. The top seems like it’s made from one of those putties that looks like whipped cream coming out of the tube, but whoever set this up either by stupidity or accidentally got the type that can set up in minutes and hardens when its completely dry. The blades on that cutter are kinda shit, though. We might have to use a jigsaw.”

“Holy fuck.” Nines’ eyes were like an owl’s. “Could somebody, like, _die_ in this thing? I mean, if there wasn’t an airhole or whatever? This would be a fucking amazing way to kill someone. Or maybe hide a body ... though you might have to cut it up first.”

“Um, I can hear you, you know.” The girl in the cake didn’t sound amused. “Could you maybe _not_ talk about murder and dismemberment while I’m sort of suffocating in my own sweat here? Thanks.”

“Wait.” Zeroes sounded as if he’d just woken up from a nap himself. “You mean this isn’t a _real_ cake?”

Finn did roll his eyes then and went off to the small closet they used as a utility space. He took out a blue-sleeved pair of cutters and a small stepstool. After a moment’s thought, he put the cutters back and removed a hammer and small chisel, bringing the whole works out into the living room.

“Actually, I think the easiest thing would be to try to widen this airhole,” he said, stepping up on the ladder, and looking down at the cake. “If she’s supposed to come out of the top, that layer’s got to be wide enough for her entire body to come through, so if we widen the hole, she can squeeze out. If that doesn’t work, I’ll get the jigsaw and cut through the side.”

“Saw?” The voice held a slight quaver. “I hope you’re not that guy who was talking about cutting people up earlier.”

Finn started to chuckle but thought better of it. Below him, trapped in a plaster and foam eyesore, was a girl who was basically at the mercy of four men she did not know and on their turf. Maybe once she was freed, there’d be time to laugh, but there wasn’t, he reflected, a damn thing funny from her perspective about the current circumstances.

“Don’t worry, I know what I'm doing. We’re going to use the path of least resistance first. Can you, uh, cover your head?”

“Cover ... what do you mean?”

“Like with your arms? Protect your head. And get low. Some of this might fall in on you. It doesn’t look like it’s heavy enough to hurt, but you don’t want to get any of this crap in your eyes. Let me know when you’re ready.”

There was a shifting sound.

“Okay ... I’m ready.”

Finn eyeballed the top of the cake with a practiced stare. Measuring a space slightly away from the air hole, he steadied the chisel. Then with sharp breath, he brought the hammer down on the chisel’s handle. There was a sharp cracking sound and Finn watched, astonished, as the layer broke into neat quarters and fell into the recesses of the cake.

He peered in, and saw, crouched at the bottom, a figure with her arms tightly cradling her head. She was in shadow, but he could see the sparkles on her outfit and what looked to be masses of dark hair.

The girl jerked at the noise and dropped her arms. Finn looked down as she looked up. She looked somewhat flushed, but none the worse for the wear.

“You okay?”

“Hi ... wow ... thank you.” She shook her head very slowly. “That was ... not fun.”

“I’ll bet. Do you need help getting out of there?”

“No, I think I got it from here. Could you give me a little space, please?”

Finn nodded and stepped down the ladder. A moment went by and the girl’s head popped up above the broken upper tier. She _was_ a brunette, and that came as something of a surprise to him. Slip and Nines favored blondes, and he just assumed Cake Girl would fit _their_ definition of a hot girl, even though it was _his_ birthday.

The rest of Cake Girl soon followed. She nimbly ascended the cake, aided, he figured, by the thing’s internal structure. Placing her hands on either side of the upper layer, she levered herself and swung out, as lithe and graceful as a gymnast, descending by way of the cake’s outer layer.

Finn realized then why the thing had a wooden structure. It was to serve as steps for the Cake Girl to continue her grand entrance once she’d emerged. Cake Girls, he realized, had to have quite a bit of upper body strength to make that move. And _this_ Cake Girl, he noticed, as she finally reached the ground, had a pair of arms on her.

She, however, did not particularly have a pair of ... _other_ items that usually made Cake Girls and cake parties so popular.

This Cake Girl was about medium height with a delicately boned face and light brown eyes, but she was built like a fashion model rather than a centerfold model. In fact, the top of her costume, which consisted of a sparkly camisole and a pair of very short shorts, was rather ... roomy.

She brushed residual dust off her arms and looked around with a vague smile. Her hair was done up in a series of graduated buns at the back of her head, and there was a little of the plaster substance there, but it didn’t seem to be bothering her.

“Now, which one of you is Ken?”

They all looked around.

“Um ... _Ken_?”

“The birthday boy.” Her smile faded somewhat. “Ken March?”

“ _Finn_.” Slip sounded annoyed and jerked his head in Finn’s direction. “His name’s _Finn_.”

“Sorry about that. _Finn_.” She looked over at him. “So, my hero is the birthday boy, huh?”

Cake Girl walked toward him, softly singing Happy Birthday to him, making an attempt to infuse her smile with enthusiasm. He thought that he could see some tiredness around her eyes. He suddenly felt bad for her, understanding how she might have dozed off. How many cake parties had she done that day? That week? It seemed like a much more stressful job than he would have expected. Then again, being ogled by horny dudes day in and day out probably took a toll.

She finished the song, and there was some hesitant, scattered applause. Finn half-expected her to bow, but she just momently looked confused, but smoothed her expression into one of soft friendliness once more.

“How old are you today, Finn?”

Her voice was low, possibly going for sexiness. It was sort of working, because the accent was nice, Finn had to admit. But he still felt somewhat conspicuous talking to a half-dressed woman he barely knew.

“Uh ... I’m 21.”

“Congratulations!” She came closer, and to Finn’s mild alarm, placed her hands on his shoulders. “A birthday kiss for the birthday boy.”

Cake Girl leaned in and pecked him gently on the cheek. Finn felt his entire face heat up and his skin buzzed where her lips had touched his skin. He certainly hadn’t been expecting _that._ He’d always assumed that touching any part of the Cake Girl was forbidden, but maybe this was part of the whole routine.

Over the girl’s shoulder, he could see Nines, Zeroes, and Slip watching them. Slip was half smirking, but Nines and Zeroes were frowning heavily. He almost smiled at their discomfort, but he wondered what that was about. He was the “birthday” boy, after all. It was only right that he’d get the girl’s attention.

“Um, thanks.” Finn got an unintended glance down her top when she pulled away, something that was also supposedly a mark of the “Cake Girl Experience,” though he didn’t think she was doing it on purpose. He noticed, though, that beneath the sparkly top, she had on what looked like a sports bra, something that was generally _not_ part of the Cake Girl outfit.

“Happy birthday, Finn, and many more,” she said brightly. “Thank you for allowing Plutt’s Party Paradise to help you celebrate your special day. We’d very much appreciate it if you rate us and leave a review on Yelp.”

“Uh, well, it was actually their idea,” Finn said, waving toward the group at the other end of the room. “But, um, thanks for coming?”

He wondered belatedly if that had been the wrong thing to say and looked sharply at Nines, ready to parry any smart remark.

But Nines was paying no attention to him. His face was a mottled red and he stepped forward, half-snarling.

“Are you serious? That’s _it_? Where’s the dancing? Where’s the singing?”

“Nines, relax,” Finn moved forward, feeling the annoyance surge within him again. “You guys got your show, okay?”

“Like fuck we did! We didn’t pay $300 to have to pull her out of the fucking cake ourselves and some half-assed song and a some dinky kiss!” Nines was almost sputtering. “And no offense, but we were expecting a little bit more ... _more_. All the girls on the website are fucking stacked. This is false advertising!”

Finn started to say something, but Cake Girl preempted him, her voice coldly calm.

“You’re the one who was talking about murder and dismemberment, aren’t you?”

“Okay, look.” Slip moved to the middle of the room, his expression somewhat perplexed. “I ... when I made the appointment, the guy said that we’d get a 15 minute uh ... performance. Nines has a point. This is kind of weak, I’m sorry.” He glanced over at Nines and Zeroes. “I think you guys were right the first time. I’m gonna call the company and complain. This isn’t what we paid for.”

“Wait!” Cake Girl sounded as rattled as when she’d been stuck in the cake. “I’m ... not much of a dancer. But I can sing something else?” She turned toward Finn. “Would that work?”

“Well ... uh ... sure.” Finn shrugged. “If you want.”

“OK, great! What do you want to hear?”

“Uh ...” Finn thought for a moment. Nothing was coming to mind. “I really don’t ...”

“Hey, do you know _Big Ole Freak_? Maybe you could sing that? _”_

Cake Girl looked mystified. “Um ...”

“Fuck off, Zeroes,” Finn near-growled. “You know what? That’s okay. I think Happy Birthday was enough –”

“No, it wasn’t.” Slip grimaced. “I’m serious, Finn. First she falls asleep ...”

“Look, I’m sorry about that. I had three classes in a row, starting at 8.” She was speaking quickly. “It’s really warm in there, and it took 20 minutes to get over here. I thought I was just closing my eyes for a minute ...”

“—We have to get her out ourselves, and now we don’t get anything else?” Slip shook his head. “Sorry, buddy, but $300 doesn’t just grow on trees.”

“All right, all right, look,” Cake Girl folded her arms. “You can’t blame me for the cake ... malfunction. _You_ try being stuck inside that thing. It was like _The Cask of Amontillado_ in there.”

Finn grinned at the literary allusion, grinning more when it was clear that no one got it except for him. Cake Girl was intelligent and funny, which ... shouldn’t have shocked him at all. Just because she jumped out of cakes for money didn’t mean she didn’t have a brain.

Slip sighed heavily. “Okay, but this still isn’t what we thought we were paying for. I’ll give you that about the cake. You’re right, that part’s not your fault. But maybe if I tell them they fucked up, they'll send out another cake.”

“Yeah, with another girl in it.” Nines grumbled. “One that looks like the girls on the site. One with big-ass titti—”

“—I mean, I feel like the company should reimburse us somehow,” said Slip, waving Nines into silence. “For the, uh, cake malfunction, or whatever. To me, that seems fair.”

“ _Please_. I will get into so much trouble if you call ... him.” Her eyes looked shiny with dread. “Give me a break. I don’t ... know that song you asked about, but maybe ...”

Finn saw the panic in her face, and decided he’d had enough.

“No. We’re done.” Finn glared at Slip. “The fuck’s your problem? You paid for me to have a girl pop out of a cake. Here’s the girl. There’s the cake. She was in it, and now she’s not anymore. The end. It’s my fucking birthday, and you’re not gonna get this girl in trouble because it wasn’t exactly what _you_ thought it would be.”

Slip’s mouth fell open, shocked at Finn’s outburst. Nines gave an ugly laugh and leered at Cake Girl, then looked at Finn.

“Really, March, white-knighting? You think she’s gonna fuck you now - or maybe that’s extra. What’re your rates, baby?”

Cake Girl made a sound in her throat that sounded almost like a growl and stepped toward Nines, but Finn got there first, grasping Nines’ arm in a tight grip, twisting his wrist while quickly dropping his elbow over Nines’ arm.

“Ah FUCK!” The pain was palpable in Nines’ voice. “March, are you fucking _crazy_?”

“Finn, c’mon.” Slip tugged at Finn’s shoulder. “C’mon, Finn, let him go ... Jesus Christ, Finn, _let him go_!”

Finn ignored Slip, yanking his wrist up to put more pressure on Nines’ arm. Nines had been mediocre at their combat training, and the more he tried to twist away, the more Finn knew it would hurt.

“Apologize." His voice was tight with anger. "Apologize to her right _fucking_ now, or I swear to you I’m breaking this shit.”

There was no sound in the room except Nines’ labored breathing. After another second, he finally croaked out, “I’m ... I’m sorry ...”

“Say it to _her_ , not me.”

Nines was breathing shallowly. His face was nearly parallel to the floor, and with effort, he brought it up until he was generally looking in Cake Girl’s direction.

“I-I’m sorry! Shit! I’m sorry, okay? _I’m sorry_!”

Finn kept the pressure up for a few more seconds before releasing him with a sharp shove. Still breathing heavily, Nines stumbled backwards into Zeroes, glaring death at Finn while rubbing his arm.

“Give me one reason ...” he panted, blinking tears out his eyes, “that I don’t ... kick your fucking ass for that ... March ...”

“I’ll give you two,” said Finn laconically. “The first: you’re not gonna be able to lift that arm enough to hold your dick to take a piss for like three hours. And the second: You come at me, and I’ll beat your narrow ass into the ground. Don’t fucking try me. You should know better.” Finn paused. “But if you want a reminder of what happened in 11th grade, then we can definitely go there again.”

Beneath his freckles, Nines’ face paled. He gingerly tried to lift his arm, wincing when he could barely move it without pain.

“Fuck it, and fuck you, March. I’m outta here. I told you he wasn’t worth it. Never has been.” Nines’ voice, aimed at Slip, was filled with pain, humiliation, and a cutting fury.

“Zeroes, let’s bounce. Slip, if you want to stay with this lame, that’s on you.”

Finn looked at Slip, who was staring at him as if he’d never seen him before.

Slip bit his lip and shook his head, his eyes sad as he looked at Finn. “We just wanted to give you a nice birthday, man. But ... I guess we shouldn’t have wasted our time.”

“Yeah, I guess you shouldn’t have.” Finn unearthed his wallet from his back pocket, counted out some bills, and held them out to Slip. “There’s $300 there. So now you can’t say you wasted your money.”

Slip looked at the outstretched hand, over at Zeroes and Nines who were staring at the both of them, and then back at Finn.

“Happy birthday, Finn,” he said softly, making no move toward the cash, and saying nothing else as he trooped after Nines and Zeroes out the front door.

Finn’s eyes narrowed as the door slammed. It had been a while since he’d been so angry. And there was Slip, ultimately taking Nines’ side again. He made a mental note to go to the housing office after his exams were through and see about a transfer. There was no way in hell he could live in that place anymore.

“Hey, thanks for that. I really appreciate you sticking up for me. Nice standing armbar, by the way. Are you into MMA?”

Finn turned around, somewhat startled. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten Cake Girl was still in the apartment, but he’d assumed that after the fireworks, she’d just want to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

“Uh ... no. Where we went to ... school, we had to do three units of self-defense. I was pretty good at it. He wasn’t.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, I’m sorry about that. I know what it’s like to have eight o’clocks, and having to work. too. What happened isn’t something you should lose your job over and I wasn’t going to let that asshole insult you. You probably have to put up with enough of that kind of crap as it is.”

She shrugged. “Actually, this is the first time I’ve ever been asked if I would have sex for money.”

“Oh.” Finn blinked. “That’s ... good then? I just assumed that being around drunk, horny frat dudes all the time, some of them would try to shoot their shot or say some dumb shit.”

“Well maybe, but ...” She hesitated. “Uh ... I actually have never done this before today.”

His eyes widened. “Wow, really? This was your _first_ day on the job?” He wondered what the precedent was for a Cake Girl to have her first cake party degenerate into a fight among the partygoers. “Damn! You get stuck in a cake on your first day? Maybe ... uh ... that’s a sign of good luck in the cake party industry?”

She gnawed her lip. “You’re a really cool guy, so I’m gonna let you in on a secret. I sort of fibbed to your friends about something.”

Finn’s forehead creased in thought. “You really _do_ know the words to _Big Ole Freak_?”

“No.” She ran her hands over her hair, found the plaster bits and made a face before raising her eyes to his. “I’m ... not actually a Cake Girl.”


	3. Confessions and Capri Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Thursday update! I really liked writing the dialogue in this chapter. Thank you for all the feedback, it is helping me to become a better writer!

Finn tilted his head. It was his 21st birthday, true, but he hadn’t had a single drop of anything other than water the entire day. Therefore, he couldn’t blame his confusion on being tipsy.

“Sorry, what?”

Cake Girl twisted the hem of her blouse, causing it to gape a little more at the top. Finn kept his eyes on her face, even though he already knew ... _things_ were not showing through the skimpy garment.

“Um ... so ... I’m not actually a Cake Girl.”

Finn turned his head slowly toward the cake. It was now rather deflated, and leaning a bit to one side, the top of it looking almost like the aftermath of Mt. Vesuvius.

“Ok, so ... you were in that cake,” he said, pointing. “Right?”

“Yeah ...”

“And now you’re out of said cake, yeah?”

“Yes ...”

“And you’re wearing a Cake Girl outfit, aren’t you ...?”

She plucked at the hem of the top and shrugged. “If you want to say I’m _wearing_ this, then yes.”

“Then how are you _not_ a Cake Girl?”

“I mean ...” She hesitated. “Being a Cake Girl isn’t my ... profession or anything.”

“Oh ...” Finn felt a dim light of understanding blinking in his brain. “Right. I mean, I didn’t think that you were uh ... a professional or anything. Not that there would be anything wrong with that. But, ah, I don’t suppose that the Cake Girl, uh, industry has like health insurance or a 401(k) or anything. I figured that this was just a job while you’re in school—”

“—No. You’re not getting me.” She shook her head, and more of the strange plaster substance trickled onto her shoulders. She brushed it carefully into one hand and discarded the refuse in a nearby wasteback.

“Literally, I’m _not_ a Cake Girl. I’ve never done this before in my life. I’ll probably never do this again.”

The light that was shining in Finn’s brain abruptly went out.

“What are you talking about?” He looked furtively around the apartment. “Is this some kinda joke?”

“Sorry, but no. No joke.”

“You mean you don’t work at Plutt’s Party Paradise?”

“No, no, I _do_ work there.”

“But not as a Cake Girl?”

She nodded slowly. “ _Not_ as a Cake Girl.”

Finn took in this information, wracking his brain to remember what Plutt’s Party Paradise actually looked like. From what he could recall, it was just a somewhat dingy, narrow storefront downtown sandwiched between a Chic-Fil-A and a Bath & Body Works. He’d passed it a bunch of times but had never gone inside. All he’d ever heard about the place is that it was where Cake Parties were born and made. It didn’t itself seem to be a space for gatherings or events. Just a small space that a person could come in, order up a cake that would have a scantily clad girl popping out of it at some point, and go on about their business. He doubted that anyone other than an order-taker and the Cake Girls themselves actually had anything to do there, and he’d heard that Plutt handled all orders personally, even those made online.

“What do you do there, then?”

She raised a shoulder. “I’m the baker.”

“ _Huh_?”

Cake Girl gestured toward the cake. “I construct those. That’s my job. And I fix little things around the place. And not-so-little things. I do a little plumbing, some electrical work ... but not Cake Girl duties.”

“So you’re like, what, a building super?”

She smiled, and her eyes nearly disappeared in her face. It was, Finn thought, rather becoming.

“Not really. More a Jill-of-all-trades. Well, a _Rey_ -of-all-trades, I guess. That’s my name, by the way.”

“Jill?”

“No, _Rey_.” She was still grinning. “I guess you owed me one, for getting _your_ name wrong at first. Sorry about that. Hope it didn’t ruin your birthday surprise. Um, any more than it had been already, that is.”

Finn shrugged that off. “If you’re not a Cake Girl, then _why_ are you a Cake Girl today? Or ... whatever. I have no _fucking_ idea what’s going on.”

Rey wet her lips, lowering her eyes. “It’s ... well ... I mean I _want_ to tell you the whole story, but there’s more than one person involved here. If it was just me, I wouldn’t care as much, but if you narc on me, that other person is going to get in real trouble, and–”

“–Did you just use the word ‘ _narc_ ’ unironically?” A small smile tugged at Finn’s lips. “Are we in a really corny CW teen drama from the early 2000s all of a sudden?”

“Only if it could be _Smallville_.” Her eyes seemed to shine. “Because I _love_ that show, as cheesy as it could be sometimes.”

“ _Smallville_ was the shit! Lionel Luther was my man. I was thinking more along the lines of _Seventh Heaven_.”

“Hmm, never really got into that, but it had its moments.”

“I’ll take your word for It.” Finn’s voice was dry. “Anyway, at least tell me this–did Slip really pay for a cake party?”

“Uh ... which one was ‘Slip’?”

“Brownish hair. He was the one who wouldn’t take the money from me.”

“ _Someone_ paid for a cake party, yes. The bill would list who paid, but that’s never passed along to the Cake Girl. The only info that a Cake Girl gets is the name of the person who should get the attention, and what the occasion is.”

“So this is legit.” Finn scratched the side of his face. “He paid for a cake party ... but you’re _not_ a Cake Girl?”

Rey took a deep breath. “I’m _not_ a Cake Girl. And even if I were, I’m not _your_ Cake Girl. The girl who was supposed to be in the cake was ... someone else.”

Finn pressed his hands to his head. His head wasn’t hurting, but he felt like the pose was a necessary one for what he was hearing.

“Well where is _she_?”

Rey hesitated and glanced at the door. Finn didn’t think she was going to make a run for it, but he moved to intercept her anyway, keeping enough distance that she didn’t feel as if she were cornered.

“Look, there’s nobody I’m going to tell about this. Who’d believe me anyway?” Finn made his voice sarcastic. “ ‘Hey, yeah it’s my birthday and my dumbass roommates did a cake party for me even though I asked them not to do anything, and the cake came, but the Cake Girl was stuck in there and I had to chisel her out and guess what? She wasn’t even really a Cake Girl after all! The one I was supposed to get was ...’” He spread his arms in a “Who knows?” gesture.

“Maybe most people wouldn’t believe you, but there’s one person who would—Unkar Plutt." Her eyes narrowed. "And like I said, if he ever found out about this ...”

“I wasn’t going to let Slip or Nines ... _narc_ on you,” said Finn. “D’you think _I_ would? I’m not gonna force you to tell me a damn thing, if you don’t want to trust me. But you said that you felt like I should know the whole story. If you’ve changed your mind about that ... you can leave anytime you want.”

She considered that a moment. Sighed.

“I’ll tell you what you want to know—but on one condition.”

“Uh ...?” Finn swallowed hard. He wasn't sure about this. "That depends on what it is."

“Could I please have something to drink?” She coughed a little and made a face. “I think I inhaled some of that stuff, and my throat is starting to feel like it’s been packed with cotton wool.”

He breathed slowly out. For some reason, he’d been expecting ... something else. What, he couldn’t say, but he felt a little more at ease.

“Yeah, sure that’s easy enough.”

Finn moved toward the tiny galley area that they called a kitchen, opened the refrigerator and peered in.

“So, I’ve got water, Capri Sun, ginger ale, root beer, some tomato juice ...”

“No beer?”

He looked at her over the refrigerator door and gave her a searching look.

“Yeah right. You don’t look old enough to be able to drink.”

She lifted a brow. “You know, I _do_ come from an area where people are allowed to drink alcohol at home at 16 and buy it at 18.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about the accent.” He shook his head. “No beer. Only two of us are 21 in here, and on-campus housing is a stickler for making sure there’s no underage drinking. As long as there’s a resident under 21 in a quad, we can’t keep any alcoholic beverages on the premises. They do surprise checks all the time. One strike and you’re out.”

Rey muttered something that to Finn’s ears sounded like “barbaric.”

“It’s okay, I was only joking about the beer. I’ll take the Capri Sun, please.”

He took out a brightly colored pouch and a can of ginger ale for himself. Rey was on the couch now, legs tucked beneath her. He realized that she wasn’t wearing shoes and he wondered about that until he saw a pair of red-topped tennis shoes tucked neatly under a corner of the couch.

Finn smiled slightly to himself, wondering if he should feel some type of way that she seemed to be making herself at home. But strangely, he didn’t. He tossed her the Capri Sun and watched in poorly concealed amusement as she inhaled half the thing in one swallow, pulling so hard on the straw that the sides of the pouch collapsed in on themselves.

“Ahhh, that’s better.” Rey studied the front of the pouch critically. “This tastes _amazing_. I can barely pronounce any of the ingredients in this, though. Why does it taste so good?”

“You just answered your own question.”

She laughed. “I guess so.” Her eyes traveled the length of his body. “You don’t really look like a Capri Sun guy.”

“Too sweet for me,” he affirmed. “Slip likes them. He could mainline sugar and not gain an ounce, no diabetes, nothing. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he’d spring for a cake party of all things, though I don’t think he’s ever even been to any.”

“Really?” Rey gave him a searching look. “How many cake parties have _you_ been to?”

Finn blinked at the unexpected question. “Uh ... including this one? Three.”

“And how’d I do compared to the two other Cake Girls you saw?”

Finn paused, thinking. “Well, that’s not really a fair comparison. You said this was the first time you’ve done this. Those other girls obviously were, um, more experienced.”

Rey half-smiled. “Okay, let me ask you this: Would _you_ have paid $300 for my, uh, performance?”

Finn barely stopped to draw breath, the words out before he could stop them.

“Oh _hell_ no!”

His eyes widened and he grimaced, worried that his vehemence might have hurt Rey’s feelings. He was stunned then when she laughed, her eyes again becoming mere glimmers in her face. He saw that she had dimples and noticed, for the first time, the smattering of freckles across her face. Her laugh was infectious and he couldn’t help chuckling, too.

“Okay, you’re honest _and_ chivalrous,” she said, wiping away tears when they’d both calmed down. “But not exactly ... diplomatic. You’re lucky that you’re super cute.”

“Um ...” Finn squirmed a little, feeling more than a little pleased by the comment. “Does that matter?”

“It doesn't hurt.” Her voice had that teasing lilt to it again. Finn met her eyes, feeling his face growing hot from his eyebrows down.

“Just give me a minute to finish this,” she said, as if noticing his discomfiture and wanting to give him a moment to get himself together, “and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”


	4. The Mindy Project

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I have a project for my summer class that is kicking my butt! So the next couple of chapters MIGHT be delayed by a day or two. No more than that, though. Thanks for continuing to read!

In the end, it was more than a minute before Rey spoke again. To be precise, it was about five minutes and another half of a Capri Sun later. Finn found that he didn’t mind much, even though he was conscious of the need to start studying as he’d planned.

Rey intrigued him, more than vaguely. He watched her sip her second drink, and studied her face. It was a very interesting face, one of more than standard prettiness, dotted with golden freckles and accented with beautiful cheekbones. Somehow, she reminded Finn of that actress from that freaky ballet movie ... or wait, maybe that _other_ actress in the movie about pirates ...

“Something wrong?”

Finn started, nearly slopping ginger ale on his shirt. Rey was watching him with a small smile on her face. Her lips, he noticed, were stained a slight purple from the juice. It was cuter than it had any right to be.

“Uh, no.” Finn cleared his throat. “I just ... I was thinking that you look familiar. I mean, now that I’ve had a really good look at you.”

“Yeah, no shit you’ve had a _really_ good look at me.”

Finn snickered. “That’s _not_ what I meant. Anyway, I was thinking maybe I’ve seen you around campus, or something.”

“Possibly. This is the first time I’ve ever really spent time in South Corridor, though,” she said. “I thought only the artsy folks and termites lived out here. What’s your major?”

“Biochem and physiology. What’s yours?”

“Mechanical engineering.”

“Ahhh. Makes sense.” Finn glanced at the cake. “You like to build things.”

“Some things more than others,” she said dryly. “Biochem and physiology, huh? You either are a complete masochist _or_ want to be a doctor.”

He grimaced, downing the rest of his soda. “Well some people say those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Ha! Point.” Rey’s face creased into a knowing grin. “But you don’t look like you enjoy causing pain for fun, even when you were wailing on that redheaded idiot, so I’m gonna go with just doctor.”

“That’s the plan.” Finn paused. “Being a doctor—not kicking Nines’ ass again. Though we’ve got another seven weeks to go in the semester, so who knows?”

Rey tilted her head, sweeping him with a long look, more than casual interest frank in her eyes.

“I’ve never met a pre-med student before.”

Finn gave her a quick, somewhat befuddled glance. Was this seriously smoking-hot woman _really_ coming on to him? Or was it some weird sugar-induced hallucination brought on by ginger ale and faint Capri Sun fumes? He’d assumed she was being nice because of the thing with Nines and the fact that she wasn’t going to get called out for her less-than-inspiring Cake Girl performance. But now ...?

“Well, this is what we look like,” he said awkwardly. His fingers flexed into the empty soda can, denting it. “Some of us. Others ... look different.”

“Mmm, noted.” She sipped silently for a few seconds. “Not to bring up unpleasant memories of 20 minutes ago, but how’d you get hooked in with that guy ... Nines, wasn’t it? You’re 21, so you must be a junior, right? Don’t upperclassmen get to choose roommates?”

“Yeah. I was a dumbass,” muttered Finn. “Slip wanted to live in a quad, but he only had Nines and Zeroes willing to sign on. I wanted to live in West Corridor. That’s where my most of my classes are.”

“Hey, _I_ live in West!” Her eyes shone. “We could have been neighbors. I’m in Area A of the Spire. The Moradi Towers.”

Finn’s interest was immediately piqued. West Corridor was the “glamorous” area. It housed the main library, the labs, the train terminal that led into and out of town, and all the good eateries. It was also the location of the Black Spire development—known as just “the Spire” to everyone except parents and their kids on campus tours—a megabucks housing-and-entertainment complex with all the trimmings, including a monorail that took students to other areas of campus and stores that sold “Spire merch.” A few lucky upperclassmen, some grad students, and tenured professors on the younger side lived there. Rey looked to be about 19 or 20—so an underclassman for sure. He wondered how she’d pulled off a housing assignment in the Spire. Even big-money students with influential families had to go on a waiting list. Possibly the line moved a little faster for such people, but it still existed.

“Nice,” said Finn. “I’ve only been to the Spire once. Back when it first opened and Greedo’s Gyros was giving out free food. Maybe I’ll try for a place there next term. Could’ve probably slipped in this year. It’s what I get for trying to be a good friend.”

“Well, if it means anything, I appreciate those who try to be good friends,” said Rey. “In fact, I guess that’s as good as any a segue into explaining why you’re seeing _me_ today and not Mindy.”

“... Mindy?”

“Mindy is the person who _should_ have been your Cake Girl,” said Rey. “She’s fantastic: Beautiful, funny, a great dancer, blonde ...”

Finn felt unaccountably smug. He _knew_ Slip would’ve gone for a blonde.

“... A total pro,” continued Rey. “She’s a very popular Cake Girl and is almost always booked solid. She’s also my roommate. She won a place in the Moradi Towers in the housing lottery and needed someone to split the rent. I’d been living above the Party Palace, which was okay—it was free room and board—but having Plutt as a boss _and_ a landlord started to get old, to say the least. She asked me to room with her, since Moradi is open to sophomores and up, and I jumped at the chance. She’s amazing. You and your buddies really missed out, sorry to say.”

“Well, what happened to her? Where is she?”

“Depends.” Rey turned her face toward the ceiling. “What time is it?”

Finn took out his phone and studied it for a second. “It's ten of eight.”

“Okay. Then right now, she’s probably in the Erso Forum hopefully kicking the hell out of her Econ midterm.”

Finn was conscious of a feeling of anticlimax. He’d assumed that he was about to become aware of a big secret, some majorly undercover reason why Rey was in that cake and not this Mindy person—like maybe Rey was a spy and needed to smuggle herself out of a high-pressure situation via cake. Yet her explanation was so very ... _collegiate_ and normal.

“She had an exam and I guess there wasn’t anyone else available, so Plutt asked you to fill in for her?”

“Uh, no.” Rey fiddled with her drink pouch. “Plutt has no idea she’s not here, she would definitely get fired if he knew, and I’d probably get shitcanned, too.”

“What? I don’t get that. She had a test,” Finn said, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Aren’t most Cake Girls students? Having to reschedule because of exams must happen a lot.”

“No. It really doesn’t.” Rey shook her head. “Plutt hires Cake Girls after the first week of classes, when people know when they have papers due, exams, all of that. You formulate your schedule then. No changes are allowed afterward. If you drop a class or pick one up or something happens and your exam is rescheduled, you have to choose between taking the test or being a Cake Girl.”

“What the _fuck_?” Finn was stunned. “He can’t do that, can he? Hell, even Burger King works around student schedules.”

“Burger King doesn’t pay what Plutt does. He wants the top, um, talent, so he pays _really_ well. There’s a waiting list a mile long for girls who want a shot. You piss him off, and you’re out. He doesn’t even think twice about it.”

Rey’s eyes darkened suddenly. “Mindy had a family emergency last week. It was supremely serious, and she needed to go home ASAP, but she had her Econ midterm that would have made her miss the last train out for the weekend. She explained the situation to her professor, and he was cool about it and said she could take the test with another kid who needed a makeup because of a death in the family. She told the professor that she’d be there whenever the makeup exam was, it didn’t matter what day or time. He scheduled it for this evening, and she just assumed Plutt would go along with giving her the night off.”

She took a savage pull at the remainder of her drink. “Mindy’s worked two years for Plutt, but I’ve known him almost my entire life. I could’ve told her that thinking Plutt would go easy on her was a mistake.”

Finn mulled that a moment. Unkar Plutt didn’t look like the type who would have lifelong friends—or any friends at all. If Rey had known him so long, probably her parents had been chummy with him ... though even that was hard to believe. Finn couldn’t fathom parents who would be BFFs with a man like Plutt having such a relatively normal daughter as Rey.

“She all but begged Plutt, but he was his normal asshole self, and said rules were rules—if she didn’t show up for her scheduled parties, she was done. So, she had a choice: Get a zero in her Econ midterm, fail the class, have to take it again and pay for the privilege ... _or_ take the exam and lose her job.”

“It sucks, but to me this is a no-brainer,” said Finn. “I mean, I get that being a Cake Girl pays nice, but is it worth it in the end if you have to put up with shit like this? This is a college town. There’re plenty of jobs without total dicks as bosses. Why bother even trying to reason with someone that inflexible?”

“It’s complicated. And that part of it isn’t my story to tell,” said Rey, glancing away momentarily and shifting a bit self-consciously on the couch. “Just take it from me that she needs _this_ job, and Plutt knows it. But at the same time, she couldn’t afford to fail the exam. She was losing sleep over this, and I was worried about her ... so I volunteered to take her place.”

Finn’s eyes widened, half in surprise, half in admiration.

“You _volunteered_? Even though you’ve never done this before? You just ... went there?”

“Yep. Mindy wasn’t for it at first, but when she realized Plutt wasn’t going to budge, she decided she had to take the chance, especially when she got her schedule for the week and saw that her only cake party today was this one. She said birthday cake parties were the easiest—the main things I had to remember was pop out on cue and not forget the name of the birthday celebrant. I figured I’d have absolutely _no problem_ doing those two things. I totally would _not_ fall asleep on the way to the location and miss my grand entrance, _or_ get stuck in the cake, _or_ butcher the name of the birthday guy.”

She shot him a rueful look. “You’re sweet for not laughing your ass off right now.”

Finn tried to hide a smile, but saw by her slight smirk that he wasn’t doing a great job of it.

“Well ... you tried. And I think it’s really cool that you immediately wanted to help her rather than just telling her life sucked and figuring it wasn’t your problem.”

“I suppose, but I fucked up and could have gotten her into big trouble anyway,” she said. “I knew I’d need luck to pull this off, and despite my bullshit, I got it ... by drawing _you_. This is considered an ‘entry-level’ cake party, but 300 dollars is still 300 dollars, and you had the right to expect at least a baseline performance. Or at the _very_ least, one where you didn’t have to pull a jailbreak to get me out.”

She grinned at him. “I had the good fortune to make a fool of myself in front of a guy who wasn’t going to be an asshole about my screwing up his birthday. Lucky me."

“I wouldn’t worry about that part too much,” said Finn, holding out his hand for her empty pouch and throwing it and his can into the recycling bin. “I mean, no offense to the cake party industry,” he said over his shoulder, “but it’s not really my thing. Neither are birthdays, so don’t feel bad.”

“Fair enough about cake parties. I guess they’re an acquired taste,” she said when he returned to the living room. “But not into birthdays? You’re way too young to be having a midlife crisis. You’re still a few years away even from a quarter-life crisis.”

Finn looked at her, a little surprised and somewhat unnerved by the sober expression that contrasted her light tone. It was as if she herself didn’t quite believe her own words, but felt that it was the right thing to say—like a person telling a friend that disclosing during a job interview that they were into furry cosplay was something _everyone_ did and would have no bearing on whether they were offered the job or not.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Finn didn’t like to think that anyone, save those who’d suffered through the “education” at HMA, would understand his issues with birthdays. It was, he reflected, almost impossible that anyone _could_.

“It’s not that. It’s just ... it’s never been important to me. Just a day on the calendar.” He ran a hand over his hair. “Literally, just another day.”

Rey looked skeptical. “Not _birthdays_. They’ll never be just _any_ day on the calendar. They’re _your_ day. If you don’t want to have a balls-out bash—and no, _that’_ s not allowed at cake parties so thank you for not getting a douchey grin on your face—that’s one thing. But you still can give some acknowledgment to the day you came in the world, right? I _really_ hope this cake thing didn’t screw it all up for you.”

Finn looked at her and then away. His throat felt thick and there was an odd stinging in his throat. It would be so easy to just ... not deal with any of this anymore. He’d gotten his answer about Rey and the cake girl switch. She’d had two Capri Suns. He’d gotten to chat and flirt a little with a gorgeous girl for a while. Time to bring the curtain down on the night.

He turned his head toward her. Rey was leaning slightly forward, as if waiting somewhat impatiently for him to speak again.

“Are we still being honest with each other?”

“I hope so.” Her eyebrows rose. “What’s wrong?”

“Okay.” He waited a moment. “The thing is ... today isn’t really my birthday.”

Rey’s eyes registered bewilderment. “Not your birthday? I don’t understand.”

“Literally, it’s not my birthday.” Finn exhaled harshly. “I actually ... don’t know when my birthday is.”

He risked a glance at her. She still looked puzzled, but there was something else in her expression that Finn couldn’t quite decipher.

“I don’t get it. How can you not know what _day_ you were born?”

“Kinda easily. Especially when you were signed over to a military school when you were a baby and there’s no record of where you came from or how you got there.”

They stared at each other as silence that stretched to almost uncomfortable limits spun out between them.

“You’re serious, aren’t you,” said Rey in a low voice, her eyes riveted to his face. “You really ... don’t know?”

“Nope.” Finn raised his shoulders. “My last name’s March. Know why? Because that’s the month I was brought to Hux’s Military Academy for Foundling Boys. And today is my ‘birthday,’” he made quote motions with his fingers, “because _this_ was the day the paperwork was signed that turned me over to HMA for the first 18 years of my life. I have no idea what who my parents were, what my actual last name might be, or when I was born, though I guess I can pinpoint it to between late February and early March. Could even be late December, maybe. It sucks, because I can’t use any of those horoscope apps people are into now.”

He’d meant the last bit to be humorous, but it didn’t quite come off because Rey’s expression hadn’t changed. Finn wondered now if telling her all of this had been the right move. He didn’t like feeling so exposed, so to speak.

“Anyway, I’ve never paid any attention to my so-called birthday. I just don’t want you to think you messed up anything, when you didn’t.” He half-smiled. “In fact, the only thing that makes this year different is I got to rescue a cute not-Cake Girl from a cake she made herself, so you actually helped to make this year less boring, at least.”

Rey returned the smile somewhat wanly, but her eyes looked troubled.

“Your frien— your roommates ... do they know about this? That today really isn’t your birthday? You’re not gonna have any problems with them if they find out and get pissed they spent this money, are you?”

“Sure they know. They’re _Hux’s Boys_ , too.” He rolled his eyes. “And we were called ‘Hux’s Boys’ even when we were technically grown-ass men, by the way.”

Her eyes went huge. “You _all_ grew up in this ... Hux’s academy, or whatever it was called?”

“Yep. Nines? He’s actually Justin January. Sounds like a sportscaster, doesn’t it? And Zeroes is Shawn August. Slip’s name is Erik May. None of their birthdays are really _their_ birthdays, either, and to be honest, this is the first year they’ve ever made a big deal of it. I guess it’s the whole turning 21 thing—but then again, maybe not. I mean, Nines turned 21 back in January, and he wasn’t even here. He went on some trip out of town, so I don’t know why they decided to do all this for _me._ ”

She gave him another long look before murmuring, “Well, _you’re_ special,” in a soft voice, her eyes going small and bright in her face again.

Finn started to smile back, but didn’t because she sounded so serious, despite the smile. It made him slightly uneasy.

“Hey, sorry to dump all the Harry Potter stuff on you,” he said, looking down at his feet just to get away from the directness of her stare. “You did something nice to help out your friend and I didn’t want you to think that just because it didn’t go exactly as planned, you ruined my day or anything. I hope she does well on her exam. And ... I hope you don’t get trapped in any more cakes.”

Rey stood up, as if sensing a hint to leave. Finn followed suit, feeling a little guilty about that, but it wasn’t as if he was expecting her stay all night, and he had to study. Plus, he was sure there’d be a part two if not a Round 2 with Nines, Slip, and Zeroes. He wasn’t afraid of any of them, but he also hoped he didn’t have to deal with any more of their shit that night.

“Um, question. What happens to _that_?” Finn pointed to the cake. “I mean, can we just dump it somewhere, or ...?”

“You can put it out with your bins. The trash company will pick it up on Wednesday, when they do bulk trash. I think they keep a list, so you don’t have to pay for it the first couple of times, but you’ll get a bill if they’re picking up a cake frame every week or something. Actually ...”

Rey stopped, appearing to be considering something. “Do you have a piece of paper? And a pen?”

“Uh ... sure.”

Finn picked up a discarded receipt from the coffee table and found a pen near one of the lamps. He watched her scribble something on the blank side, gnaw her lip contemplatively, and then add a little more.  
  
She held out the slip of paper to Finn, and he took it, almost fearfully. On it was an address, one he recognized as being on or near West Campus, on the main drag headed toward downtown. But it rang no further bells.

He looked up at her, his eyebrows high.

“Can you meet me there? In, say, an hour?” She looked down at herself in mild dismay. “I really need to shower. And change. I couldn’t snag a Cake Girl outfit in my size, so I had to use Mindy’s. We’re about the same height, but our other ... dimensions aren’t very similar.” She gestured toward the chest area with a self-deprecating smirk. “And I probably shouldn’t run around too much in this outfit anyway. I don’t want to end up on someone’s IG story. Is an hour okay?”

Finn couldn’t think of a response to that, or to anything else really. He didn’t think the address was her apartment, because there was no apartment number. But he wasn’t quite sure what was going on.

Finally, he found his voice and the proper words.

“I ... um ... are you asking me out?”

Rey glimmered at him again. “Cute _and_ smart! You’re going to be an awesome doctor. That place is Maz’s Miraculous, by the way. She makes the best burgers on campus. Oh ... do you eat meat? They have vegetarian and vegan stuff there, too, if you don’t.”

“I ...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s, uh ... wow. I mean, you don’t have to ... I was ... I probably should, uh ... study ... I mean, I have three midterms, and, uh ... I mean it’s nice of you to offer, but ... uh ...”

“Finn. It’s cool.” Rey’s smile turned a little wistful. “It’s, what, gotta be after eight o’clock now. You have a little more than three hours left in your birth—in _today_. I thought maybe I could help it be more than just another day, you know? I’ll be at this place in an hour. I’d like to see you there, but if I don’t ... I’ll understand. Either way, I’m glad that I got to be _your_ Cake Girl.”

Rey reached out and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. For a wild moment, Finn thought she was going to kiss him again, but she just winked, turned and walked out, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Finn stared at the closed door, his mouth dry. He thought about the neat stack of notes that awaited him on his bed. He thought about the files he had on his laptop that functioned as flashcards for his metoblomics exam. He thought about the pizza and wings he’d planned to order that would be his one concession to his “birthday.”

It took him a half-hour to stop thinking about these things, particularly since in that half-hour, he showered, dressed—changing his outfit only twice—and applied cologne, all the while trying to drown out a small voice in his brain that said he was possibly doing something very stupid. The voice went obligingly silent only when he'd closed the apartment door behind him and made his way to the on-campus bus that would take him over to the West Corridor.

That _smile_. That _smile_ had gotten him.

Dammit.


End file.
